About the Author

JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her third-grade school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She has written for Kensington and NAL, and now is so very happy to also be part of the Harlequin family—a lifelong dream, by the way!

Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.

Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website at www.janicemaynard.com or e-mail her at JESM13@aol.com. And of course, don’t forget Facebook (www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReader Page). Find her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/Janice Maynard and visit all the men of Wolff Mountain at www.wolffmountain.com.

A Touch
of Persuasion

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Deener,

Your energy, enthusiasm and joie de vivre challenge the rest of us to embrace life more fully! I am glad you are my friend!

One

Kieran stood on the front porch of the small, daffodil-yellow house and fisted his hands at his hips. In the distance, the sounds of a lawn mower mingled with childish shouts and laughter. The Santa Monica neighborhood where he had finally tracked down Olivia’s address was firmly, pleasantly middle class.

He told himself not to jump to conclusions.

The article he’d clipped from one of his father’s newspapers crackled in his pocket like the warning rattle of a venomous snake. He didn’t need to take it out for a second read. The words were emblazoned in his brain.

Oscar winners Javier and Lolita Delgado threw a lavish party for their only grandchild’s fifth birthday. The power couple, two of the few remaining MGM “Hollywood royals,” commanded an A-list crowd that included a who’s who of movie magic. Little “Cammie,” the star of the show, enjoyed pony rides, inflatables and a lavish afternoon buffet that stopped just short of caviar. The child’s mother, Olivia Delgado, stayed out of the limelight as is her custom, but was seen occasionally in the company of rising film star Jeremy Vargas.

Like a dog worrying a bone, his brain circled back to the stunning possibility. The timing was right. But that didn’t mean he and Olivia had produced a child.

Anger, searing and unexpected, filled his chest, choking him with confusion and inexplicable remorse. He’d done his best to eradicate memories of Olivia. Their time together had been brief but spectacular. He’d loved her with a young man’s reckless passion.

It couldn’t be true, could it?

Though it wasn’t his style to postpone confrontation, he extracted the damning blurb one more time and studied the grainy black-and-white photo. The child’s face was in shadow, but he knew her family all too well.

Did Kieran have a daughter?

His hands trembled. He’d been home from the Far East less than seventy-two hours. Jet lag threatened to drag him under. Things hadn’t ended well with Olivia, but surely she wouldn’t have kept such a thing from him.

The shocking discovery in his father’s office set all of Kieran’s plans awry. Instead of enjoying a long overdue reunion with his extended family on their remote mountaintop in the Virginia Blue Ridge, he had said hello and goodbye with dizzying speed and hopped on another plane, this time to California.

Though he’d be loath to admit it, he was jittery and panicked. With a muttered curse, he reached out and jabbed the bell.

When the door swung open, he squared his shoulders and smiled grimly. “Hello, Olivia.”

The woman facing him could have been a movie star herself. She was quietly beautiful; a sweeter, gentler version of her mother’s exotic, Latin looks. Warm, sun-kissed skin. A fall of mahogany hair. And huge brown eyes that at the moment were staring at him aghast.

He probably should be ashamed that he felt a jolt of satisfaction when she went white. The urge to hurt her was unsettling. “May I come in?”

She wet her lips with her tongue, a pulse throbbing visibly at the side of her neck. “Why are you here?” Her voice cracked, though she was clearly trying hard to appear unconcerned.

“I thought we could catch up… for old times’ sake. Six years is a long span.”

She didn’t give an inch. Her hand clenched the edge of the door, and her body language shouted a resounding no. “I’m working,” she said stiffly. “Now’s not a good time.”

He might have been amused by her futile attempt at resistance if he hadn’t been so tightly wound. Her generous breasts filled out the front of a white scooped-neck top. It was almost impossible not to stare. Any healthy man between the ages of sixteen and seventy would be drawn to the lush sexuality of a body that, if anything, was more pulse-stopping than ever.

He pushed his way in, inexorably but gently. “Perhaps not for you. I happen to think it’s a damn good time.”

She stepped back instinctively as he moved past her into a neat, pleasantly furnished living room. Though it was warm and charming, not an item was out of place. No toys, no puzzles, no evidence of a child.

On the far wall, built-in bookcases housed a plethora of volumes ranging from popular fiction to history and art appreciation. Olivia had been a phenomenally intelligent student, an overachiever who possessed the unusual combination of creativity and solid business sense.

A single framed picture caught his eye. As he crossed the room for a closer look, he recognized the background. Olivia had written her graduate thesis about the life and work of famed children’s author and illustrator Beatrix Potter. On one memorable weekend, Olivia had dragged Kieran with her to England’s Lake District. After touring the house and grounds where the beloved character Peter Rabbit was born, Kieran had booked a room at a charming, romantic B and B.

Remembering the incredible, erotic days and nights he and Olivia had shared on a fluffy, down-filled mattress tightened his gut and made his sex stir. Had he ever felt that way since?

He’d tried so damned hard to forget her, to fulfill his duty as a Wolff son. A million times he had questioned the decisions he made back then. Leaving her without a word. Ending an affair that was too new… too fragile.

But he had ached for her. God, he had ached. For Olivia… elegant, funny, beautiful Olivia… with a body that could make a man weep for joy or pray that time stood still.

He shoved aside the arousing memory. There was a strong chance that this woman had perpetrated an unforgivable deception. He refused to let his good sense be impaired by nostalgia. And let’s face it… this meeting should be taking place on neutral ground. Because without witnesses, there was a good chance he was going to wring Olivia’s neck.

Again, he studied the photo. Olivia stood, smiling for the camera, holding the hand of a young child. Kieran’s world shifted on its axis. He lost the ability to breathe. My God. The kid was a Wolff. No one could doubt it. The wide-spaced eyes, the wary expression, the uptilted chin.

He whirled to face his betrayer. “Where is she?” he asked hoarsely. “Where’s my daughter?”

Two

Olivia called upon every parentally bestowed dramatic gene she possessed to appear mildly confused. “Your daughter?”

The man facing her scowled. “Don’t screw with me, Olivia. I’m not in the mood.” She saw his throat work. “I want to see her. Now.”

Without waiting for an invitation, he bounded up the nearby stairs, Olivia scurrying in his wake with her heart pounding. She’d known on some level that this day would come. But in her mind, she’d always thought that she would be the one orchestrating the reunion.

Kieran Wolff had been her first and only lover. Back then she’d been a shy, lonely, bookish girl with her head in the clouds. He had shown her a world of intimate pleasures. And then he had disappeared.

Any guilt she was feeling about the current situation evaporated in a rush of remembered confusion and pain.

On the landing he paused, then strode through the open door of what was unmistakably a little girl’s bedroom. A Disney princess canopy bed… huge movie posters from a variety of animated children’s films… a pair of ballet slippers dangling from a hook on the door.

For a moment, Olivia was reluctantly moved by the anguish on his face, but she firmed her resolve. “I repeat the question. What are you doing here, Kevin?”

A dull flush of color rose from the neck of his open-collared shirt. Short-cropped hair a shade darker than hers feathered to a halt at his nape. He was dressed like a contemporary Indiana Jones, looking as if he might be ready to take off on his next adventure. Which was exactly why, among other reasons, she had never contacted him.

He faced her, his gaze an impossible-to-decipher mélange of emotions. “So you know who I am.” It was more of a statement than a question.

She shrugged. “I do now. A few years ago I hired a private investigator to find out the truth about Kevin Wade. Imagine my surprise when I learned that no such man existed. At least not the one I knew.”

“There were reasons, Olivia.”

“I’m sure there were. But those reasons mean less than nothing to me at this point. I need you to leave my house before I call the police.”

Her futile threat rolled off him unnoticed. He was intensely masculine, in control, his tall lanky frame lean and muscular without an ounce of fat. Amber eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll call the police and discuss charges of kidnapping.”

“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her throat tight and her eyes burning. “Not after all this time. Please.” The entreaty was forced between numb lips. She owed him nothing. But he could destroy her life.

“Where is the child?” His unequivocal tone brooked no opposition.

“She’s traveling with her grandparents in Europe.” Not for anything would Olivia reveal the fact that Cammie’s flight wasn’t departing LAX for several hours.

“Tell me she’s mine. Admit it.” He grasped her shoulders and shook her, his hands warm, but firm. “No lies, Olivia.”

She was close enough to smell him, to remember with painful clarity the warm scent of his skin after lovemaking. Her stomach quivered. At one time she had believed she would wake up beside this man for the rest of her life. Now, in retrospect, she winced for the naive, foolish innocent she had been.

In high heels she could have met him eye to eye, but barefoot, wearing nothing but shorts and a casual top, she was at a distinct disadvantage. She pushed hard against his broad chest. “Let me go, you Neanderthal. You have no right to come here and push me around.”

He released her abruptly. “I want the truth, damn it. Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass. Go home, Kevin Wade.”

Her deliberate taunt increased the fury bracketing his mouth with lines of stress. “We need to talk,” he said as he glanced at his watch. “I have a conference call I can’t miss in thirty minutes, so you have a choice. Tonight at my hotel. Or tomorrow in a room with two lawyers. Your call. But the way I’m feeling, a public forum might be the best option.”

The sinking sensation in her belly told her that he would not give up easily. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said, her bravado forced at best.

He stared her down, his piercing golden eyes seeming to probe right through her to get at the truth. “Then I’ll do all the talking.”

Olivia watched, stunned, while he departed as quickly as he had come. She trailed after him, ready to slam the front door at the earliest opportunity, forcefully closing the door to the past. He paused on the porch. “I’ll send a driver for you at six,” he said bluntly. “Don’t be late.”

When he drove away, her legs gave out beneath her. She sank into a chair, her whole body shaking. Dear God. What was she going to do? She was a terrible liar, but she dared not tell him the truth. Kieran Wolff—she still had trouble thinking of him by that name—was not the laughing young man she remembered from their graduate days at Oxford.

His skin was deeply tanned, and sun lines at the corners of his eyes gave testament to the hours he now spent outdoors. He was as lethal and predatory as the sleek cats that inhabited the jungles he frequented. The man who helped dig wells in remote villages and who built and rebuilt bridges and buildings in war-torn countries was hard as glass.

She shuddered, remembering the implacable demand in his gaze. Would she be able to withstand his interrogation?

But there were more immediate details to address. Picking up the phone, she dialed the mother of Cammie’s favorite playmate. The two families’ backyards adjoined, and Cammie was spending part of the afternoon with her friend. Olivia had been terrified that Cammie would come home while Kieran was in the house.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia watched her daughter labor over a thank-you picture for her grandparents. Despite Olivia’s reservations about the recent birthday party, the worst that had happened to her precocious offspring was the almost inevitable spilled punch on a five-hundred-dollar party dress… and a sunburned nose.

The dress had been a gift from Lolita. Olivia warned her mother that the exquisite frock was highly inappropriate for a child’s birthday party. But as always, Lolo, as she liked to be called by her granddaughter, ignored Olivia’s wishes and bought the dress, anyway.

Cammie frowned at a smudge in the corner of the drawing. “I need some more paper,” she said, close to pouting. “This one’s all messed up.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. You’ve done a great job.” At five, Cammie was already a perfectionist. Olivia worried about her intensity.

“I have to start over.”

Sensing a full-blown tantrum in the offing, Olivia sighed and produced another sheet of clean white paper. Sometimes it was easier to avoid confrontation, especially over something so minor. Did all single mothers worry that they were ruining their children forever?

If Cammie had a father in her life, would she be less highly strung? More able to take things in stride?

Olivia’s stomach pitched. She wouldn’t think of Kieran right now. Not until Cammie was safely away.

She would miss her baby while Cammie was gone. The hours of reading storybooks. The fun baking experiments. The leisurely walks around the neighborhood in the evenings. The silly bathtub bubble fights. They were a family of two. A completely normal family.

Was she trying to convince herself or someone else?

She desperately wanted for Cammie the emotional security Olivia had never known as a child. The simple pleasure of hugs and homework. Of kisses and kites.

Olivia had been raised for the most part by a series of well-meaning nannies and tutors. She had learned early on that expensive Parisian dolls were supposed to make up for long absences during which her parents ignored her. The stereotypical poor little rich kid. With a closet full of expensive and often inappropriate toys, and a bruised heart.

Olivia remembered her own childish tantrums when her parents didn’t bring presents she wanted. Thinking back on her egocentric younger self made her wince. Thank heavens she had outgrown that phase.

Maturity and a sense of perspective enabled her to be glad that her parents were far more invested in Cammie’s life than they had ever been in their own daughter’s. Perhaps grandparenthood had changed them.

Olivia’s determination to live a solidly middle class life baffled Lolita and Javier, and they did their best to thwart her at every turn, genuinely convinced that money was meant to be spent.

The weekend party was an example of the lifestyle Olivia had tried so hard to escape. It wasn’t good for a child to understand that she could have anything she wanted. Even if Olivia died penniless—and that wasn’t likely—Cammie stood to inherit millions of dollars from her grandparents.

Money spoiled people. Olivia knew that firsthand. Growing up in Hollywood was a lesson in overindulgence and narcissism.

Cammie finally smiled, satisfied with her second attempt. “I wish Lolo had a refrigerator. My friend Aya, at preschool, says her nana hangs stuff on the front of the refrigerator.”

Olivia smiled at her daughter’s bent head. Lolo owned several refrigerators, all in different kitchens spread from L.A. to New York to Paris. But it was doubtful she ever opened one, much less decorated any of them with Cammie’s artwork. Lolita Delgado had “people” to deal with that. In fact, she had an entourage to handle every detail of her tempestuous life.

“Lolo will love your drawing, Cammie, and so will Jojo.” Olivia’s father, Javier, wasn’t crazy about his nickname, but he doted on his granddaughter, probably—in addition to the ties of blood—because she gave him what he craved the most. Unrestrained adoration.

Cammie bounced to her feet. “I’m gonna get my backpack. They’ll be here in a minute.”

“Slow down, baby….” But it was too late. Cammie ran at her usual pace up the stairs, determined to be ready and waiting by the door when the limo arrived. Olivia’s parents were taking Cammie to Euro Disney for a few days in conjunction with a film award they were both receiving in Florence.

Olivia had argued that the trip was too much on the heels of the over-the-top birthday party, but in the end she had been unable to hold out against Cammie’s beseeching eyes and tight hugs. The two adults and one child, when teamed against Olivia, made a formidable opponent.

Cammie reappeared, backpack in hand. Olivia had her suitcase ready. “Promise me you’ll be good for your grandparents.”

Cammie rolled her eyes in a manner far too advanced for her years. “You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.”

The doorbell rang. Cammie’s screech nearly peeled the paint from the walls. “Bye, Mommy.”

Olivia followed her out to the car. In the flurry of activity over getting one excited five-year-old settled in the vehicle, Lolita and Javier managed to appear both pleased and sophisticated as they absorbed their granddaughter’s enthusiasm.

Olivia gave her mother a hug, careful not to rumple her vintage Chanel suit. “Please don’t spoil her.” For one fleeting second, Olivia wanted to share the truth about Kieran with her parents. To beg for guidance. She had never divulged a single detail about her daughter’s parentage to anyone.

But the moment passed when Javier bussed his daughter’s cheek with a wide grin. “It’s what we do best, Olivia.”

The house was silent in the aftermath of the exodus. Without the distraction of Cammie, the evening with Kieran loomed menacingly. Olivia wandered from room to room, too restless to work. Cammie would be going to kindergarten very soon. Olivia had mixed emotions about the prospect. She knew that her highly intelligent daughter would thrive in an academic environment and that the socialization skills she acquired with children her own age would be very important.

But it had been just the two of them for so long.

And now Kieran seemed poised to upset the apple cart.

When Olivia felt her eyes sting, she made a concerted effort to shake off the maudlin mood. Life was good. Her days were filled with family, a job she adored and a cadre of close, trusted friends. Kieran wasn’t part of the package. And she was glad. She had made the right choice in protecting Cammie from his selfishness.

And she would continue to do so.

The remainder of the day was a total loss. She had a series of watercolors due for her book publisher in less than two weeks, but putting the finishing touches on the last picture in the set was more than she could handle today. She loved her work as a children’s illustrator, and it gave her flexibility to spend lots of time with Cammie.

But the concentration required for her best efforts was beyond her right now. Instead, she prowled her small house, unable to stem the tide of memories.

They had met as expatriate grad students at a traditional English country house party hosted by mutual friends. With only six weeks of the term left, each knew the relationship had a preordained end. But in Olivia’s case, with stars in her eyes and a heart that was head-over-heels in lust with the handsome, charismatic Kevin Wade, she’d spun fairy tales of continuing their affair back in the U.S.

It hadn’t quite turned out that way. During the final days of exam week, “Kevin” had simply disappeared with nothing more than a brief note to say goodbye. Thinking about that terrible time made Olivia’s stomach churn with nausea. Her fledgling love had morphed into hate, and she’d done her best to turn her back on any memory of the boy who broke her heart. And fathered her child.

After a quick shower, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Even if Olivia wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps, she would never have stood a chance in Hollywood. She was twenty pounds too heavy, and though today’s pool of actresses was more diverse, many directors still preferred willowy blondes. Olivia was neither.

By the time the limo pulled up in front of her house, Olivia was a wreck. But since birth, she’d been taught “the show must go on” mantra, and to the world, Olivia Delgado was unflappable. For six years, she had spun lies to protect her daughter, to make a life so unexceptionable that the tabloids had long since left her alone.

An unwed mother in Hollywood was boring news. As long as no one discovered the father was a Wolff.

Tonight Olivia would be no less discreet.

She had dressed to play a part. Confident and chic were the qualities she planned to convey with her taupe linen tank dress and coral sandals. Though she had not inherited an iota of her parents’ love for acting, she had inevitably learned from them along the way what it meant to present a serene face to the world, no matter if your life was in ruins.

Kieran Wolff’s hotel was tucked away in a quiet back street of Santa Monica. Exclusive, discreet and no doubt wildly expensive, it catered to those whose utmost wish was privacy. The manager, himself, actually escorted Olivia to the fifth floor suite.

After that, she was left to stand alone at the door. Instead of knocking, she took a few seconds to contemplate fleeing the country. Cammie was everything to her, and the prospect of losing her child was impossible to imagine.

But such thoughts were defeatist. Though she might not be able to go toe-to-toe with the Wolff empire when it came to bank accounts, Olivia did have considerable financial means at her disposal. In a legal battle, she could hold her own. And judges often sided with a mother, particularly in this situation.

She had no notion of what awaited her on the other side of the door, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Kieran Wolff didn’t deserve to be a father. And if it came to that, she would tell him so.

Deliberately taking a moment to shore up her nerve, she rapped sharply at the door and took a deep breath.

Kieran had worn a trail in the carpet by the time his reluctant guest arrived. When he yanked open the door and saw her standing in the vestibule, his gut pitched and tightened. God, she was gorgeous. Every male hormone he possessed stood up and saluted. A man would have to be almost dead not to respond to her inherent sexuality.

Like the pin-up girls of the 1940s, with legs that went on forever, breasts that were real and plenty of feminine curves right where they should be, Olivia Delgado was a vivid, honey-skinned fantasy.

But today wasn’t about appeasing the hunger in his gut, even if he had been celibate during a recent, hellacious foray into the wilds of Thailand. Bugs, abysmal weather and local politics had complicated his life enormously. He’d been more than ready to return to central Virginia and reconnect with his family. Not that he ever stayed very long, but still… that closely guarded mountain in the Blue Ridge was the only place he called home.

With an effort, he recalled his wayward thoughts. “Come in, Olivia. I’ve ordered dinner. It should be delivered any moment now.”

She slipped past him in a cloud of Chanel No. 5, making him wonder if she had worn the evocative scent on purpose. In the old days, she had often come to his bed wearing nothing but a long strand of pearls and that same perfume.

He waited for her to be seated on the love seat and then took an armchair for himself a few feet away. In the intervening hours, he’d rehearsed how this would go. Having her here, on somewhat public turf, seemed like a good idea. He was determined to keep his cool, no matter the provocation.

They faced off in silence for at least a minute. When he realized she wasn’t going to crack, he sighed. “Surely you can’t deny it, Olivia. You were a virgin when we met. I can do the math. Your daughter is mine.”

Her eyes flashed. “My daughter is none of your business. You may have introduced me to sex, but there have been plenty of men since.”

“Liar. Name one.”

Her jaw dropped. “Um…”

He chuckled, feeling the first hint of amusement he’d had since he saw the article about the party. Olivia might look like a woman of immense sophistication and experience, but he’d bet his last dime that she was still the sweet, down-to-earth girl he’d known back at university, completely unaware of her stunning beauty.

“Show me her birth certificate.”

Her chin lifted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t carry it around in my purse.”

“But you probably have it at the house, right? In order to register her for kindergarten?”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “Well, I…”

Thank God she was a lousy liar. “Whose name is on the birth certificate, Olivia? You might as well tell me. You know I can find out.”

Suddenly she looked neither sweet nor innocent. “Kevin Wade. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The sharp pain in his chest took his breath away. “Kevin Wade…”

“Exactly. So you can see that no judge would think you have any rights in this instance at all.” Her eyes were cold, and even that realization was painful. The Olivia he had known smiled constantly, her joie de vivre captivating and so very seductive.

Now her demeanor was icy.

“You put my name on her birth certificate,” he croaked. It kept coming back to that. Kevin Wade was a father. Kieran had a daughter.

“Correction,” she said with a flat intonation that disguised any emotion. “In the hospital, when I gave birth to my daughter, I listed a fictional name for her father. It had nothing to do with you.”

He clamped down on his frustration, acknowledging that he was getting nowhere with this approach. Unable to sit any longer, he sprang to his feet and paced, pausing at the windows to look out at the ocean in the far distance. One summer he had lived for six weeks on a houseboat in Bali. It was the freest he had ever felt, the most relaxed.

Too bad life wasn’t always so easy.

Olivia continued to sit in stubborn silence, so he kept his back to her. “When you hired an investigator, what did you find out about me?”

After several seconds of silence, she spoke. “That your real name is Kieran Wolff. You lost your mother and aunt to a violent abduction and shooting when you were small. Your father and uncle raised you and your siblings and cousins in seclusion, because they were afraid of another kidnapping attempt.”

He faced her, brooding. “Will you listen to my side of the story?” he asked quietly.

Olivia’s hands were clenched together in her lap, her posture so rigid she seemed in danger of shattering into a million pieces. Though she hid it well, he could sense her agitation. At one time he had been attuned to her every thought and desire.

He swallowed, painfully aware that a king-size bed lay just on the other side of the door. The intensity of the desire he felt for her was shocking. As was the need for her to understand and forgive him. He was culpable for his sins in the past, no doubt about it. But that didn’t excuse Olivia for hiding the existence of his child, his blood.

“Will you listen?” he asked again.

She nodded slowly, eyes downcast.

With a prayer for patience, he crossed the expanse of expensive carpet to sit beside her, hip to hip. She froze, inching back into her corner.

“Look at me, Olivia.” He took her chin in his hand with a gentle grasp, lifting it until her gaze met his. “I’m not the enemy,” he swore. “All I need is for you to be honest with me. And I’ll try my damnedest to do the same.”

Her chocolate-brown eyes were shiny with tears, but she blinked them back, giving him a second terse nod. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and forced himself to release her. Touching her was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment.

“Okay, then.” He was more a man of action than of words. But if he was fighting for his daughter, he would use any means necessary, even if that meant revealing truths he’d rather not expose.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dropped his head in his hands. “You were important to me, Olivia.”

A slight humph was her only response. Was that skepticism or denial or maybe both?

“It’s true,” he insisted. “I’d been with a lot of girls before I met you, but you were different.”

Dead silence.

“You made me laugh even when I wanted you so badly, I ached. I never meant to hurt you. But I had made a vow to my father.”

“Of course you had.”

She could give lessons in sarcasm.

“Sneer if you like, but the vow was real. My brothers and cousins and I swore to my father and my uncle that if they would let us go off to college without bodyguards, we would use assumed names and never tell anyone who we really were.”

“So it was okay to sleep with me, but you couldn’t share with me something as simple as the truth about your real name. Charming.”

This time it was Olivia who jumped to her feet and paced. He sat back and stared at her, tracking the gentle sway of her hips as she crisscrossed the room. “I was going to tell you,” he insisted. “But I had to get my father’s permission. And before I could do that, he had a heart attack. That’s when I left England so suddenly.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Leaving behind a lovely eight-word note. Dear Olivia, I have to go home. Sorry.”

He winced. “I was in a hurry.”

“Do you have any clue at all how humiliated I was when I went to the Dean’s office to beg for information about you and was told that Kevin Wade was no longer enrolled? And they were not allowed to give out any information as to your whereabouts because of privacy rules? God, I was embarrassed. And then I was mad at myself for being such a credulous fool.”

“You weren’t a fool,” he said automatically, mentally replaying her words and for the first time realizing what he had put her through. “I’m sorry.”

She kicked the leg of the coffee table, revealing a hint of her mother’s flamboyant temper. “Sorry doesn’t explain why suddenly neither your cell phone nor your email address worked when I tried to reach you.”

“They were school accounts. My exams were over. I knew I wasn’t coming back, so I let them go inactive, because I thought it was the easiest way to make a clean break.”

“If you’re trying to make a case for yourself, you’re failing miserably.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he insisted.

“They call them clichés for a reason.” The careful veil she’d kept over her emotions had shredded, and now he was privy to the pure, clean burn of her anger.

“Things were crazy at home,” he said wearily. “I stayed at the hospital round-the-clock for a week. Then when Dad was released, he was extremely depressed. My brother Jacob and I had to entertain him, read to him, listen to music with him. I barely had a thought to myself.”

She nodded slowly. “I get it, Kieran.” He watched her frown as she rolled the last word on her tongue. “I was a temporary girlfriend. Too bad I was so naive. I didn’t realize for a few weeks that I had been dumped. I kept making excuses for you, believing—despite the evidence to the contrary—that we shared something special.”

“We did, damn it.”

“But not special enough for you to pick up the phone and make a call. And you had to know I was back home in California. Yet you didn’t even bother. I should thank you, really. That experience taught me a lot. I grew up fast. You were a horny young man. I was easy pickings. So if that’s all, I’m out of here. I absolve you of any guilt.”

Fortunately for Kieran, the arrival of dinner halted Olivia’s headlong progress to the door. She was forced to cool her heels while the waiter rolled a small table in front of the picture window and smiled as Kieran tipped him generously. When the man departed, the amazing smells wafting from the collection of covered dishes won Olivia over, despite Kieran’s botched attempts to deal with their past.

Neither of them spoke a word for fifteen minutes as they devoured grilled swordfish with mango salsa and spinach salad.

Kieran realized he’d gotten off track. They were supposed to be talking about why Olivia had hidden the existence of his daughter. Instead, Kieran had ended up in a defensive position. Time for a new game plan.

He ate a couple of bites of melon sorbet, wiped his mouth with a snowy linen napkin and leaned back in his chair. “I may have been a jerk,” he said bluntly, “but that doesn’t explain why you never told me I had a daughter. Your turn in the hot seat, Olivia.”

Three

Olivia choked on a sliced almond and had to wash it down with a long gulp of water. The Wolff family was far more powerful than even Olivia’s world-famous parents. If the truth came out, she knew the Wolff patriarchs might help Kieran take Cammie. And she couldn’t allow that. “You don’t have a daughter,” she said calmly, her voice hoarse from coughing. Hearing Kieran’s explanation of why he had left England so suddenly had done nothing to alleviate her fears. “I do.”

Kieran scowled. Any attempts he might have made to appease her were derailed by his obvious dislike of having his wishes thwarted. “I’ll lock you in here with me if I have to,” he said, daring her to challenge his ability to do so.

“And how would that solve anything?”

Suddenly her cell phone rang. With a wince for the unfortunate timing, she stood up. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”

Kieran made no move to give her privacy, so she turned her back on him and moved to the far side of the room. Tapping the screen of her phone to answer, she smiled. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you in New York?”

The brief conversation ended with Olivia’s mother on the other end promising to make Cammie sleep on the flight over to Paris. Olivia’s daughter had flown internationally several times, but she wasn’t so blasé about jet travel that she would simply nod off. Olivia had packed several of the child’s bedtime books in her carry-on, hoping that a semi-familiar routine would do the trick.

When Olivia hung up and turned around, Kieran was scowling. “I thought you said she was in Europe.”

She shrugged. “That’s their ultimate destination.”

“So this morning when I came to your house, where was she?”

“At the neighbor’s.”

“Damn you, Olivia.”

It was her turn to frown in exasperation. “What would you have done if I had told you, Kieran? Made a dramatic run through the yard calling her name? My daughter is now traveling with her grandparents. That’s all you need to know.”

“When will they be back?”

“A week… ten days… My mother isn’t crazy about abiding by schedules.”

His scowl blackened. “Tell me she’s my daughter.”

Her stomach flipped once, hard, but she held on to her composure by a thread. “Go to hell.”

Abruptly he shoved back his chair and went to the mini bar to pour himself a Scotch, downing the contents with one quick toss of his head. His throat was tanned like the rest of him, and the tantalizing glimpse of his chest at the opening of his shirt struck Olivia as unbearably erotic.

Sensing her own foray into the quicksand of nostalgia, she attacked. “If you want to have children someday, you should probably work on those alcoholic tendencies.”

“I’m not an alcoholic, though God knows you could drive a man to drink.” He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it into disarray. She saw for the first time that he was exhausted, probably running on nothing but adrenaline.

“You don’t even own a house,” she blurted out.

Confusion etched his face. “Excuse me?”

“A house,” she reiterated. “Most people who want a family start with a house and a white picket fence. All you do is travel the globe. What are you afraid of? Getting stuck in one place for too long?”

Her random shot hit its mark.

“Maybe,” he muttered, his expression bleak. “My brothers have been begging me to come home for a long time now. But I’m not sure I know how.”

“Then I think you should leave,” she said calmly. “Get back on a plane and go save the world. No one needs you here.”

“You didn’t used to be so callous.” His expression was sober. Regretful. And his cat eyes watched her every move as if he were stalking prey.

“I’m simply being realistic. Even if I had given birth to a child that was yours, what makes you think you have what it takes to be a father? Parenting is about being present. That’s not really your forte, now is it?”

She heard the cruel words tumbling from her lips and couldn’t stop them. If she could drive him away in anger, he would go and leave Olivia to raise her daughter in peace.

“I’m here now,” he said quietly, his control making her ashamed of her outburst. “Cammie is my daughter, I want to get to know her.”

Olivia’s heart stopped. Hearing him say her daughter’s name did something odd to her heart. “How exactly do you mean that?”

“Let me stay here with you for a little while.”

“Absolutely not.” She shivered, imagining his big body in her guest bed… a few feet down the hall from hers.

“Then I want the two of you to come to Wolff Mountain with me for the summer and meet my family. This afternoon I talked to the CEO of my foundation, Bridge to the Future. He’s lining up people to take my place until early September.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” she said politely. “But we can’t. Perhaps some other time.” When hell freezes over. If she let Cammie go anywhere near the Wolff family compound, Olivia stood a chance of never seeing her daughter again. Kieran’s relatives made up a tight familial unit, and if they got wind that another wolf had been born into the pack, Olivia feared that her status as Cammie’s mother would carry little weight.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “At the risk of sounding like one of your father’s action hero characters, I’m warning you. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I can get a court order for a DNA sample.”

Olivia shivered inwardly as she felt her options narrowing. She could buy some time by stonewalling, but ultimately, the Wolff would prevail. “My daughter and I have lives, Kieran. It’s unrealistic of you to expect us to visit strangers for no other reason than your sudden odd conviction that you are a daddy.”

“Your work is portable. Cammie doesn’t start school until the fall. I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t claim her as mine…. I won’t even tell my family what I know to be true. But in exchange, you agree to let me see her as much as possible in the next few weeks.”

“She’s not yours.” The words were beginning to sound weak, even to her ears.

He came toward her. The silent intensity of his stare was hypnotic. When they were almost touching, chest to chest, he put his hands on her shoulders, the warmth of his touch searing her skin even through a layer of fabric. “Don’t be afraid of me, Olivia.”

His mouth moved over hers, light as a whisper, teasing, coaxing. The fact that her knees lost their starch should have made her angry, but there was no room for negative emotion in that moment. For no other reason than pleasure, her lips moved under his. Seeking. Responding.

He made an inarticulate murmur that encompassed surprise and masculine satisfaction. Then the kiss deepened.

His leg moved between her thighs as he drew her closer. “You haven’t changed,” he said roughly. “I’ve dreamed about you over the years. On nights when I couldn’t sleep. And remembered you just like this. God, you’re sweet.”

She felt the press of his heavy erection against her belly, and everything inside her went liquid with drugged delight. How long had it been? How long? No longer a responsible mother, she was once again a giddy young woman, desperate for her lover’s touch.

Unbidden, the memories came flooding back….

“You’re a virgin?”

Kevin’s shock worried her. Surely he wouldn’t abandon her now. Not when they were naked and tangled in her bed. “Does it matter? I want this, Kevin. I really do. I want you.”

He sat up beside her, magnificently nude, his expression troubled. “I haven’t ever done it with a virgin. You’re twenty-two, Olivia. For God’s sake. I had no idea.”

With a confidence that surprised her, she laid a hand on his hard, hairy thigh, her fingertips almost brushing his thick penis. “I told you I had led a sheltered life. Why do you think I wanted to cross an ocean to finish my schooling? I’m tired of living in a cocoon. Make love to me, Kevin. Please.”

His hunger, coupled with her entreaty, defeated him. Groaning like a man tormented on a rack, he moved between her legs once more, his erect shaft nudging eagerly at her entrance. Braced on his forearms, he leaned down to kiss her… hard. “I know I’ll hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No apology needed,” she whispered, sensing the momentous turning point in her life. “I need this. I need you.”

He pushed forward an inch, and she braced instinctively against the sharp sting of pain.

“Easy,” he whispered, his beautiful eyes alight with tenderness. “Relax, Olivia.”

She tried to do as he asked, but he was fully aroused, and she was so tight. His whole big body trembled violently, and she wanted to cry at the beauty of it. Another inch. Another gasped cry to be swallowed up in his wild kiss.

She felt torn asunder, violated, but in the best possible way. Never again would her body be hers. Kevin claimed it, claimed her.

When he was fully seated, tears rolled silently down her cheeks, wetting her hair, sliding into her ears.

He rested his forehead on hers. “Was it that bad?” he asked, clearly striving for humor, but unable to hide his distress over what had transpired.

“Try moving,” she said breathlessly. “I think I can handle it.”

“Holy hell.” His discomfiture almost elicited a giggle, but when he followed her naive suggestion, humor fled. Slowly, inexorably, her untried body learned his rhythm. Deep inside her a tiny flame flickered to life.

She moaned, arching her back and driving him deeper on a down thrust. It was easier now, and far more exciting. Her long legs wrapped around his waist. Skin damp with exertion, they devoured each other, desperately trying to get closer still.

Kevin went rigid and cursed, closing his eyes and groaning as he climaxed inside her. She was taking the pill, and he had been tested recently, so no condom came between them.

As he slumped on top of her, she wrinkled her nose in disappointment. She had been so close to something spectacular. But the feeling faded. Taking its place was a warmth and satisfaction that she had been able to give him pleasure.

He rolled to his side. “Did you come?”

She nibbled her lip. Would it hurt to lie? It wasn’t a habit she wanted to start. “Not exactly. But I know it takes practice. Don’t worry about it… really.”

He chuckled, yawning and stretching. “For a novice, you’re pretty damned wonderful. Hold still, baby, and let’s finish this.”

Without ceremony, he put his hand between her legs and touched her. She flinched, still not quite comfortable with this level of intimacy, and also feeling tender and sore. His fingers were gentle, finding a certain spot and rubbing lightly. Her hips came off the bed.

“Um, Kevin?”

“What, honey?”

“You don’t have to do this. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling sort of embarrassed.”

“Why?” The strum of his fingers picked up tempo.

“Well, you’re… um… finished, and it’s a little weird now.” Her voice caught in her throat. “That’s enough. I feel good. Really.”

He entered her with two fingers and bit the side of her neck. “How about now?”

Her shriek could have peeled paint off the walls, but she was too far gone to care. The attention she gave herself now and again when the lights were out barely held a candle to this maelstrom. Kevin gave no quarter, stroking her firmly until her orgasm crested, exploded and winnowed away, leaving her spent in his arms.

She cried again.

He made fun of her with gentle humor.

Then they turned out the lights and spent their first night together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Kieran cupped her breast with his hand, and just like that, Olivia was fully in the present. What shocked her back to reality was the incredible realization that she was a hairs-breadth away from letting him have her again. No protest. No discussion. Simply mindless pleasure.

And while that may have been okay six years ago, now she had a daughter to think about. Sexual reminiscing with Kieran Wolff was not only self-destructive and stupid, but also detrimental to her role as a parent.

“Enough,” she said hoarsely, tearing herself from his embrace and warding him off with a hand when he would have dragged her back for another kiss. “I mean it,” she said. “We’re not doing this. You can’t seduce me into agreeing to your terms.”

“Give us both more credit than that, Olivia. What happened just now proves that we’ve always had chemistry… and still do.”

“If you’re expecting to pick up where we left off, you’re destined for disappointment.”

“Is that so? From what I could tell, what just happened was a two-way street.”

“It’s late,” she said abruptly. “I have to go.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the back of the sofa, his eyes narrowed. From the look of him, no one would guess that sixty seconds ago he’d been kissing her senseless. “You can’t run from me, Olivia. Closing your eyes and thinking about Kansas is a child’s game. I want some answers.”

Her phone chimed to signal a text, and she pulled it from her pocket, glancing at it automatically. Her mother’s words chilled her blood.

Kieran touched her shoulder as she sank to a seat. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The flight was delayed. My mother has a stalker fan, and he showed up at the airport.”

He squatted beside her, his mere presence lending comfort. “What happened?”

“When he tried to burst through a checkpoint, calling her name, TSA arrested him.”

He frowned. “I don’t like the thought of Cammie being exposed to something like that.”

“First of all, my parents take security very seriously, and second of all, this is none of your business. I’m her mother. It’s up to me to keep her safe.”

From his vantage point crouched at her side, their gazes collided. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” he said quietly, the words like a vow. “Any child with my blood running in her veins has the protection of the entire Wolff clan at her back.”

She swallowed hard, near tears, missing her daughter and feeling out of her depth. “A child is not a belonging. She’s her own person. Even if she is only five.”

“You think I don’t know that? I was a year younger than she is now when my mother was killed.” He sprang to his feet, pacing once more. “My brother Gareth was the only one of us really old enough to understand and remember the details, but I lived it, and those terrible days are buried somewhere in my psyche… the confusion, the loneliness, the knowledge that my world was never going to be the same. No child should lose a parent, Olivia, even if she thinks she has only one.”

Guilt reached inside her chest and squeezed hard. Kieran Wolff had hurt her badly. Did she have the right to make her daughter vulnerable to his undeniable charm? Conversely, was she wrong to deny her child a father, even an absentee one? The same questions had haunted her for half a decade.

Her head ached. “We’ll visit for a long weekend,” she said, her voice tight. “As soon as Cammie gets back from Europe. But that’s all it will be. All it will ever be. And if you break your word to me, I’ll take her away and never speak to you again.”

His lips quirked in a half smile. “Mama Bear protecting her cub. I like seeing you in this maternal role, Olivia. It suits you.”

She gathered her purse and the light sweater she’d brought with her. “No one and nothing in this world means more to me than Cammie. And you’d do well to remember that. Good night, Kieran. Pleasant dreams.”

He followed her to the door, having the temerity to press another hard kiss to her lips before allowing her to leave. “I’ll dream,” he said, brushing her cheek with the back of a hand. “But I have a feeling that pleasant won’t be the right word for it.”

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